Vanilla Becomes Spicy
by mdnytryder
Summary: Warning: rated M for a reason. Slash/bondage/discipline/dark/graphic descriptions. Don't like, don't read. G1 - Where Prowl gets his revenge on Jazz - or so he thinks.


Vanilla Becomes Spicy: A Christmas Special

Rating: MA; FRAO/SC

Pairing: Prowl/Jazz

Warnings: slash/erotica. Bondage, discipline, graphic descriptions and plug-n-play.

Author's notes: Where Prowl gets his revenge on Jazz…or so he thinks. This is a little more twisted and darker than my first story.

Since we are still in the 12 days of Christmas, this counts as a Christmas story. It's just late because I only got the idea to write it on Monday. Too bad I can't update my Predator story as quickly, hum?

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

It was Christmas Eve, and the Ark was a festive place, indeed. The Autobots had adopted human custom for December the 25th, and wherever one looked, there were holly and twinkling lights and tinsel and even a forty-foot Christmas tree in the rec room. Red Alert was beside himself, he was sure there were intruders hiding in the tree. And no decorations were allowed in his security center, they might block his camera views. He believed all this celebration and laxness was a disaster in the making. Sideswipe kept referring to Red as the Grinch, much to everyone's amusement, except Red himself.

Jazz was in his glory, human holidays had become a hobby for him, and Christmas was one of the largest and most celebrated. Even Prowl couldn't help be a tiny bit jovial, just by the excited emotions leaking through their spark bond.

In fact, Jazz was willing to go through the whole shebang with Prowl, wearing a silly Santa hat, kissing under the mistletoe, exchange of presents, and a romantic Christmas Eve after the party, just the two of them. Well, Prowl had some definite thoughts on that.

He hadn't forgotten Jazz's little session with the ropes. (Prowl never found out what they were made of, he suspected they were a special project of Wheeljack's that Jazz 'borrowed' for the occasion.) Well, Prowl may not have any special rope, but he did have handcuffs…and he knew how to use them. Recently, Prowl had overheard Jazz gossiping with Blaster, making a statement that Prowl was so vanilla, he made vanilla seem spicy. Jazz wanted to liven things up? Well, he would be getting a spicy present this year. Prowl knew how to use the Internet for research just as well as Jazz, and he had come up with an interesting kink to try.

Party time had finally arrived, and all but a skeleton crew was celebrating in the rec room. Prowl allowed himself to be dragged to the party, the only thing making the noise and confusion bearable was the thought of giving Jazz his 'gift' later.

After many downed containers of high-grade, the exchange of Secret Santa gifts, and a pitiful attempt to sing carols, the party was winding down. Jazz was snuggled up with Prowl on one of the sofas, and had just given Prowl a special present; a data chip containing fifty masterpieces from five of the masters of classical music. "Cause I know you like the classical stuff, and I want to show you some special appreciation."

Well, that was an opening Prowl couldn't let go. "Why thank you Jazz, I am sure I will enjoy listening to it. Actually, I want to show you some special appreciation, also. In fact, why don't we exit this party right now and I will give you my Christmas surprise."

"Whoohoo, I'm all for that! Where to Prowlie?"

"Don't call me Prowlie."

Prowl let Jazz thru the maze-like corridors of the Ark, down to the lower levels, where there was little likelihood of meeting another mech. He stopped at an intersection where a pipe system jutted out from the ceiling, ran along the wall and continued down in to the floor. A few of the lights had gone out, making the surrounding area very dim and indistinct.

"So, where's my Christmas surprise, Prowler?" Jazz questioned. The hated nickname earned him a scowl from his partner.

"I thought you might like the idea of getting caught doing naughty things. That's why we're here - getting ready to…get naughty." Prowl leaned forward and purred this last part into Jazz's audios, and Jazz's motor revved in response. He reached to caress one of Prowl's doorwings. "Gee Prowler, I didn't know you were that kinky. I _like_ it!"

"You don't know the half of it, Jazz," Prowl snickered. He motioned Jazz forward, and when he obliged, Prowl pulled him in a greedy kiss. Jazz stood rigid for a few klicks, and then began to relax. In that unguarded moment, Prowl chuckled against Jazz's lips as he un-subspaced his handcuffs. He swiftly reached down and snapped a cuff on Jazz's right wrist, tugging Jazz off balance as he did so.

Prowl forcefully pushed Jazz face first into the wall, held him there with his forearm and used his free had to loop the cuffs around an exposed pipe. He snapped the remaining cuff over Jazz's left wrist with a final click, leaving Jazz trembling and facing the wall. Prowl closed it as tightly as he could around the slender limb, and Jazz winced as the metal bit into the more tender wires of his wrist.

"Come on, Prowl," Jazz moaned. "I know how bad you can be. I know you can be mean. Show me, show me."

Prowl knew it too, and what's more, he wanted to be mean. Energon was beginning to pound harshly in his pumps, and his hands were shaking from excitement.

"You want it bad, don't you?" Prowl growled, snarled, reaching down and tugging cruelly on the cuffs. "You want it real badly, huh?" Jazz mutely nodded again, allowing Prowl to slide his hand around and jiggle the cold cuffs, the rattle they made sending shivers through both mechs.

Prowl reached into his subspace pocket, pulled out an electro-whip and switched it on. The whip should only tingle and wouldn't do any lasting damage, as Jazz still had full armor. But it would hurt if Prowl hit unguarded joints and seams. The sound of the hum as it charged made Jazz jump and murmur, "Um, hey Prowl, is that what I think it is?"

"Do not speak without my permission. You have become too undisciplined. But, we are here to remedy that."

Yes, Prowlie, I've been a bad robot, just as bad as you are," moaned Jazz, quivering with anticipation.

"Silence!" Prowl yelled, slashing Jazz across the back with the whip.

"Yeow!"

"If you do not curb your tongue, I will be forced to do it for you," Prowl threatened. "The safe word is 'spicy'."

Jazz didn't reply, he just wiggled and tried to push his back up against Prowl's front bumper.

"You want it so badly, I'll give it to you," Prowl snarled. "I'll give it to you better than anyone else ever could."

Jazz practically screamed with delight, as Prowl proceeded to crack the whip hard against his shoulder plates. Prowl realized in that instant, that every time he hit Jazz, they both loved it. Jazz gasped, straining hard at the handcuffs, thrilling to the way they scraped against his wrists, showing how helpless he was.

"Harder, slag you," Jazz hissed. You're not hitting me hard enough! I want to feel it, you son of a glitch! I want to feel it!"

Prowl whirled the whip around his head and lashed violently at Jazz's backside, sparks flying. He quaked with the impact of each blow. Their sparks were pulsing wildly now, and they were experiencing a desire more violent and intense than any they had ever felt before. Prowl lashed cruelly at Jazz's waist as he sobbed, eagerly twisting to meet each blow.

Any thoughts of being quiet in the corridor were gone in the intense fervor of the moment.

Jazz was swaying from left to right, turning as best as he could to give Prowl more access to his chassis. He seemed to yearn for each lash, seemed to want as much of the whip to crack into his body as he could get. This was a new and delightful experience, he didn't realize how much he had yearned for discipline.

"This is what you deserve," Prowl snarled, "you'll get what you want, you'll get what you deserve!"

Jazz laughed and mocked as Prowl hit him. His pleasure at being defenseless, at being utterly unable to avoid the pain was one of the most potent sounds Prowl had ever heard. Each time the whip hit a sensitive joint, Jazz made a sob of delight.

"Ahh, harder Prowl, hit me harder," Jazz moaned, arching away from the pipes, trying to get closer to Prowl. "Give it to me, hurt me, baby, hurt me, please!"

"I'll hurt you," Prowl growled, striking again and again. His arm ached, and his intakes were huffing with the effort and the excitement of the beating. He saw scratches he had made on Jazz's back, and the visual was almost more than he could stand. Lashing savagely, Prowl hit with everything he had. Jazz twisted and cried out under the blows, and his responses hit Prowl's CPU and blocked out everything else but Jazz. Jazz. Jazz. His Jazz. For a moment, Prowl's vision blurred, and when the glitch cleared, he saw Jazz on his knees, shuddering involuntarily as tremors of pain and stimulation rippled unceasingly through his frame.

Prowl threw the whip away and dropped to his knees beside his mate. He yanked Jazz's head back and crushed his mouth against his own, reveling in the feelings coursing through his spark. Jazz gasped with pain, then eagerly responded to the brutal kiss. Prowl's free hand reached around and caressed Jazz's headlights and then he raked his fingers along the bumper hard enough to spark. He heard Jazz's delighted whimper, as he continued his caresses.

"Ohh yes, Prowl," Jazz whispered passionately, "more, yes, more."

Lust couldn't even describe what they were feeling then. Lust was too weak a word to convey the emotion and passion. It would be like saying a full body wax and detail felt…okay.

Prowl knew what he wanted. Jazz moaned softly, sagging against the pipes as he felt fingers caressing and massaging his torso, scratching and scraping over the armor, slipping in between the spaces to tweak sensitive wires. Prowl could feel the static building up between them, and the shimmering heat that escaped from Jazz's fans washed enticingly over his fingers. It was if each of their bodies were on fire, an electric generator ready to explode.

Prowl dropped his mouth to Jazz's horns, licking and kissing, and Jazz shuddered as he felt Prowl's hands move over his thighs, as he sucked on the sensitive receivers. "How 'bout letting me go," Jazz purred, "I've been making love to this pipe long enough."

"What did I say about vocalizing?" asked Prowl, as he bit hard on a horn.

"Then take me, you slaggin' glitch, take me, hard!" Jazz groaned.

"You're in no position to be making any demands," stated Prowl.

Jazz moaned, and let his head fall back against Prowl's shoulder. Prowl continued to caress the spaces between the thigh and groin armor, and moved one hand to run fingers over Jazz's interface port, feeling the static jumping over relays. Jazz quivered at the touch, and keened in need.

"Remember a little episode, Jazz, a few months ago, where I was tied down, and you _teased_ me, made me _beg_ for release?"

"Mmmm, yeah. Good times, right?"

Prowl jabbed two fingers into the port and Jazz wailed. "Payback, as the humans say, is a bitch," he intoned.

Prowl shifted and pulled Jazz close onto his lap, back to front, so Jazz's arms were pulled to full extension.

Come on baby, yes, do it," Jazz whispered. "Take me, just as nasty as you can!"

Prowl nodded, "Indeed. I'm going to give it to you all right. Come on, scream for me, Jazz, scream now!"

Prowl continued to play his fingers roughly over and around the port, as the pleasure rippled through them both, continuing to build to a climax.

Jazz shrieked, head thrown back, mouth parted and undulating in excitement. All that seemed to matter then was the heat pouring off their frames and the increasing passion that had both mechs shivering. The insistent pulsation of their bonded sparks grew stronger in their chests as they tried to connect through the metal.

Groaning thickly, Prowl reached for his interface cable and probed at the entrance to Jazz's port. He felt a shudder of eagerness and Jazz moaned and jerked spasmodically. "Primus, that's good, Prowl, so good," Jazz whimpered. "Oh, baby, you really do it, you really do it to me, yes!" He was rolling his head from left to right, grinning fiercely.

Prowl bit hard at tender wires in Jazz's neck and as Jazz cried out, he savagely connected them together. Both mechs howled and jerked spasmodically as ecstasy flooded their systems and impulses synchronized with impending overload.

As they writhed and shook convulsively, Prowl wrapped both arms around Jazz, crushing him to his chest. His world exploded in heat and delight, and he screamed his lovers name as overload tore through them. Prowl collapsed against Jazz's frame, and he felt his systems start to go offline, and everything turned black.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Prowl's intakes hitched as he felt himself slowly coming back online. His processors took a few moments to get up to speed. But, something was not right. Why couldn't he move his arms?

What the slag! He was lying on the floor in the lower levels, that he understood. But, how did he get to be handcuffed to the very same pipes where he had tormented Jazz? Looking around, he focused on Jazz sitting against the wall, head bobbing to his internal tunes. Jazz noticed Prowl had awakened and spoke, "Hey sleepyhead, finally awake. It's about time. That was intense, huh?"

"Jazz!" Prowl exclaimed. "What…when…how…Jazz, unlock these this instant! How did I get here? Cuffed here? How did you get out?"

"Come on Prowlie, there ain't never been any set of cuffs that I can't get out of! You should'a known that! And I do seem to recall you saying something earlier to me. Something like…'You're in no position to be making demands.' Do you recall that, my love?"

"Jazz…I think you've had your fun, let me up and we'll go back to quarters."

"Um, let me think on that a min…hum, um, ah, no. I don't think we're done here yet. Remember you said, 'Payback's a bitch?' "

Later, after another satisfying (though slightly less domineering) and very loud overload session, the two were cuddling in the dim deserted corridor, trying to get enough energy to get up and go back to their quarters.

"Best Christmas EVER!" Jazz declared.

Prowl harumphed, snuggled closer to Jazz and said, "After analyzing the data, I'd have to concur."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Some time after the party, Sideswipe was sitting alone in the rec room, pensively contemplating a cube of high-grade. Every so often, he would shiver and twist his features into a pained expression.

A slightly inebriated Bumblebee stumbled in. "Hey Sideswipe," he slurred, "what's the matter. You're looking a little – hick - twitchy."

"Oh, hi Bee. I guess I'm a little squeamed out. A little while ago, I was looking for a good hiding place for the leftover high-grade from the party. No sense letting the officers get the remainder, ya know. Anyway, I was down…I saw…there was…well, let's just say, we all better avoid the sub-level 3 areas for a little while. Or, at least until tomorrow."

The End


End file.
